


Witches Bane

by VulpesVulpes713



Series: Fictober 2018 [8]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Changelings, Fae & Fairies, Fantasy AU, Fictober 2018, M/M, Magic, Witches, klance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-21 17:17:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16580729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VulpesVulpes713/pseuds/VulpesVulpes713
Summary: Prompts:Day 15: “I thought you had forgotten.”Day 16: “This is gonna be so much fun!”





	Witches Bane

It’s nearing the witching hour, and Lance is beginning to panic.

 

_Dammit…I knew I shouldn’t have let him come alone. I should have sent a guide or ensured the path was still lit or-_

 

He shakes his head of the thoughts, forcing his feet to still as he inhales deeply.

 

“Calm down. He’ll be here. Just calm down.”

 

But his words do little to ease his nerves. He  _could_  imbue them with magic, add a few reassuring whispers here and there, but that was really only effective against someone else. And besides, using magic for personal gain wasn’t something Lance liked to do. It felt selfish. Wrong.

 

And his mother had raised him better.

 

_“The world fears us as it is. Best not rub it in.”_

 

Right.

 

So he boils the kettle, adds a few nettle leaves to the water, and sits. And waits. And that lasts about four whole minutes because sitting down when anxious is like bathing in caffeine and then denying the body an escape. It’s hell. Torturous,  _godawful_  hell.

 

Well, it’s ADHD, technically, but those are minor details.

 

“Where is he…” he mopes, tapping feverishly on the counter. He doesn’t notice the magic spilling from his fingertips, and it pools on the floor in lazy, sinking pockets of turquoise. Something to clean up in the morning, lest a garden of ivy sprout up through the floorboards, or he find his ferret suddenly sprouting wings. 

 

Another glance at the clock on the wall, and Lance’s unease grows. He knows the night. Knows the day the villagers chant about in the valley below. And he knows the client he’s asked to meet with.

 

The kettle boils, and Lance is reminded of their first encounter. Out in the woods, under a nearly full moon. It’s several days before Hallows eve, and Lance had been out gathering the materials needed to protect himself and the village from the demons lurking at the edges of the valley. His power grows as the night approaches, but so does theirs. It’s the trade-off. The balance. And Lance has been in charge of this village for years.

 

He needs to strengthen the wards, and to do so is a lengthy process. And a dangerous one. But he has no other choice.

 

He’d been in the middle of harvesting skunk cabbage for the spell when he’d felt the presence. He’d lifted his head, not worried as his own cloak protects him from the eyes of mortal souls, but curious. No one wandered this far to the borders. No one ventured this deep into the woods. Not the wise at least.

 

So he’d snuck closer, following the aura of whatever stranger had passed his glen. And as he’d walked he’d grown more confused. The colours of the ribbons of magic trailing off whoever he was following were unfamiliar. Stronger than the mortals below, but unstable. A fiery red, and just as chaotic.  

 

But it made sense in the end. And an appointment had been made to help the lost cha-

 

The kettle whistles loudly, snapping Lance out of his recollections. He blinks, chasing away the remnants the vision had brought as he pours himself a cup. He needs to calm down.

 

_He’ll be here. He has to be here._

 

Otherwise the foundations of the ward will break. And Lance can’t let that happen.

 

But the witching hour is approaching fast, and if he doesn’t show up when Lance’s powers are at their fullest, then there’s not much he can do to help. It’ll be over. The end. Not for him, so much, but for the village? Gone. Done. Vanquished and overrun.

 

“C’mon…where are you-”

 

And then there’s a knock at his door, and Lance flicks his wrist to open it, knowing already who stands on the other side.

 

“ _Finally!_ **I thought you had forgotten!** _”_

 

Keith steps inside, cheeks flushed and hair disheveled. There’s a small cut on his forehead, and the aura of red that surrounds him is wild and unruly. He visibly relaxes upon seeing Lance, and hurriedly shuts the door behind him.

 

“I didn’t forget,” he pants as Lance pours another cup of tea. “I was on time, following the path you left, just like you said. But they were waiting.”

 

That has Lance’s pausing in contemplation, processing the implications of Keith’s words.

 

_They were waiting. So they know the plan._

 

_Not good._

 

“I ran, but they followed,” Keith continues, “and I didn’t want to lead them back here, so I took a different route and-”

 

“You strayed from the path?!” Lance interrupts abruptly, nearly dropping the tea as he hands it Keith’s way. “How did you get back if you left-”

 

But he stops short as Keith smiles. It’s a kind smile. A knowing smile. The red aura shifts to a soft magenta.

 

“I focused, and I followed my heart, and it led me back here.”

 

 _Oh…oh my.._ Lance thinks in a daze. He knows what Keith had meant-that he had channeled his own magics to locate Lance’s aura-but the way he’d worded it… _wow._

 

The past few days since meeting Keith had been spent training him to harness his powers. To utilize his birthright for the battle that would soon come. And it was during that time that the two had grown close. It was easy, being with Keith, though maybe that was because Lance had spent so much of his life alone. Having someone around, someone to talk with and teach, someone to  _listen_ …it was something Lance had forgotten about. Something he had neglected for too long. And a wiccan who allows themselves to succumb to seclusion ends up overwhelmed by the slightest of things.

 

He blames the ensuing feelings for Keith on that. He’s a focal point for neglected magic. A scapegoat for Lance’s own shortcomings.

 

But overcoming those emotions is an ongoing process, and he must blush, as Keith cocks a brow as he gulps down the tea.

 

“You okay?” he asks, and Lance clears his throat loudly and turns. He can’t risk developing feelings for someone like Keith. It’s not right. Not proper. And despite his true heritage, the boy was raised amongst the humans.

 

And Lance can’t get attached to humans. They perish too easily.

 

 _But Keith isn’t human,_  he finds himself thinking, but hastily silences those thoughts. The alternative is worse anyway.

 

“I’m fine,” he grunts in response to Keith’s question, downing his own drink in one go. It burns his throat, but it’s helps him to focus. They’re running short on time, and if the others already know… “We’ll need to be hasty. You’re sure you weren’t followed?”

 

He glances back as Keith nods, and sighs.

 

“Good.”

 

“Will we make it in time?” Keith asks quietly, hesitantly, and Lance feels him approach. “I…I would have left earlier had I known they would be waiting…but I couldn’t risk mother finding out, and Shiro was awake for so long and-”

 

Lance turns, resting a hand on Keith’s shoulder and infusing it with serenity. A gentle yellow glow emerges from his fingers, soothing the crimson flames threatening to engulf Keith.

 

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, meaning it. “You had no idea, and neither did I. And you got away, a feat not many can boast given your pursuers.”

 

Keith relaxes, and he sinks into Lance’s touch, leaning more heavily into the hand that rests on his shoulder.

 

“Still,” he mumbles, “what if they get you? What if I’ve endangered your life as well?”

 

Lance feels himself bob in the waves of emotion that flood over him, praying his aura remains steady as he feels the rush of adoration run its course. He closes his eyes, indulging-or else giving into-the sensation by resting his forehead against Keith’s.

 

His magic swells, but he thinks that’s because the witching hour grows nearer.

 

“I’ll be fine,” he reassures, lifting his other hand to cup Keith’s cheek. He shouldn’t. He knows the implications. The consequences. But he’s overwhelmed, and Keith is a rock for him to cling to in the storm that’s threatening his calm. He has to control himself, his power. The last thing he needs is for his magic to become untethered. Especially now. “Your mother hardly scares me.”

 

Keith frowns at that, which Lance can feel before he leans back to see.

 

“My mother-” Keith begins, but stops short as he realizes who Lance means. “Ooohh.  _That_  mother. Yeah…”

 

“Leave it to you to have the Fae Queen for a parent,” Lance chuckles, stepping back as Keith rolls his eyes. It’s a shock that he can laugh, given the situation. But he thinks it’s his nerves shorting out.

 

Because to be completely honest, Lance is petrified. He’s not dealt with the Fae for centuries, not since his mother’s mother had made the agreement. But to find out they’re active again, sneaking into the human village to steal away the babies…

 

It’s unforgivable, and violates the agreement that bound them prior.

 

And for Keith to be the one…the heir to it all…Lance was fortunate that the boy possessed such strong feelings of protection towards his human family, otherwise the very foundation on which they all survived would perish.

 

_If only his magic was more controlled-_

 

“Not like I got to choose,” Keith grumbles in response to Lance’s jest, saving him from his ponderings. “ _She_  was the one to place me with mo-with  _Krolia,_ ” he corrects, mood dropping. Lance feels for him. It’s not everyday you find out the people who’ve raised and loved you as their own for years become strangers. But that was the life of Changeling, and Keith had taken the place of whichever infant the Fae had stolen. The fact that Keith had survived this long without finding out sooner was a miracle.

 

 _No,_  Lance corrects.  _Not a miracle. It was done on purpose: his memories delayed until the right moment, whatever that is. The only reason he knows now is because something triggered his magic. It’s the reason he sought me out in the first place._

 

Lance recalls the rest of their meeting: finding Keith in the woods, wandering dangerously close to the veil that separates the worlds. Lance had been about to intervene when Keith had suddenly turned, facing the direction where Lance was still cloaked. Like he could see him.

 

 _“I know you’re there,”_ he’d said.  _“I can feel you. Please…I need your help.”_

 

Keith shifts, rousing Lance from his memories and pulling him back to the present. His eyes are downcast, blurry but withholding tears.

 

He’s scared. And worried. Lance can sense it in his aura.

 

And before he can think much of it he pulls Keith into an embrace and holds him tightly.

 

“There’s nothing to fear, Keith,” he soothes gently, rubbing patterns onto Keith’s back. “And it’s not your fault. Your family will be safe, and we’ll keep you out of her hands. But to do that, we need to keep the ward up.”

 

He leans back, holding Keith at arms length in defiance of his heart. He’s getting too close, allowing too much. He needs to concentrate, so he lets his hands drop to the side.

 

“And to keep the ward up, I’m going to need to perform a few rituals. They’re dangerous, and time consuming, but I can manage. You know what you must do. What I’ve been training you to do.”

Keith nods. He knows. The only thing up for debate is if he  _can_.

 

_But he must. He has to._

 

Lance doesn’t allow his doubts to surface, instead squashing them and casting them aside as he reaches for his bag. The materials are within, ready and waiting. All they need to do it make it to the heart of the woods. No problem. Easy. Lance has done the same thing  _countless_  of times before. And now he has the benefit of another magic user. Someone to help if the times comes.

 

And so what if there’s an added danger from the Fae. So what if their Queen is after them, hunting down the son she left to the humans. And so what if Keith is an absolute  _infant_  when it comes to controlling his magic.

 

So what? No biggie.

 

“I’ll keep you safe, Lance,” Keith speaks, and it reassures Lance better than any spell. “I’ll keep them away.”

 

And it’s Lance’s turn to nod. He has faith. Keith is powerful, if untamed. He’ll manage for a bit on his own. All he has to do is withstand the darkness, overcome the pleas of the damned, and, oh yeah, fight off the hoard of Fae ready and waiting to steal back their prince.

 

Lance will ensure Keith is protected once the ward is replenished. He can’t allow the Queen to have her way. Not this time. And whatever the reason for suddenly wanting her child back in her realm, well…it can’t mean anything good. But that’s a problem for another night. Right now they have a task to complete.

 

Lance smirks, reaching for his cloak and then Keith’s hand as he feels the barriers around his house begin to quake.

 

_They’re getting closer. I can sense the rage._

 

He shivers, and Keith tightens his grip as he smiles back.

 

“You ready?” he asks, and Lance turns towards the door, power swelling in the light of the full moon as it swings open. The witching hour is upon them. He’s ready. He can do this.

 

“Bring it on,” he whispers into the night, then winks at Keith. “ **This is gonna be so much fun!** ”

 

Keith laughs, aura pulsing around him in waves of potent magic. It fills Lance with confidence, and he solidifies his own walls as he breathes in the cool, autumn air.

 

Yeah. They’ll be fine. Nothing to worry about.

 

They step out into the night, lights from the village below twinkling lazily in the distance: Lance’s charge…Keith’s family.

 

They’ll protect them. They must.

 

“Let’s go,” Lance instructs, but pauses. There’s a ripple in the barrier ahead: a disturbance in the magics. It’s strong. It’s threatening. And Lance pales as he sees a shape appear before him. “Oh no-”

 

“Hello darling,” a voice echoes through the trees, bodiless and booming, but with a crisp edge that cuts like a winter breeze.

 

Beside him Keith stiffens, eyes going wide as they focus on a point not far ahead of them.

 

 _No…no!_ Lance thinks desperately. His barrier should have kept her out! His magics should be stronger than this! And yet…there she is, emerging from the darkness as tendrils of black ink seep out into the ground, sucking the life from the plants at her feet.

 

The Queen of the Fae stands before them, and she tilts her head with a smile when her form is corporeal.

 

“Are you ready to come home?”


End file.
